


Marvel Imagines

by xOblivion_is_Gracex



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Actors, Angst, Car Sex, Dad!Tony, Daddy Logan, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Implied Sexual Content, Logan is a good dad, M/M, Marvel Universe, Multi, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Peter Parker, RPF, Reader-Insert, Steve Rogers and the 21st Century, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Vaginal Fingering, Virgin Steve Rogers, lesbian!reader, protective Logan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-18
Updated: 2018-09-05
Packaged: 2018-10-07 05:50:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10353567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xOblivion_is_Gracex/pseuds/xOblivion_is_Gracex
Summary: I get a lot of requests to write short imagines on my tumblr. This will be just one big dump of them.My tumblr: the-marvel-imagines-blog.tumblr.com





	1. Stargazing (Tom Hiddleston/Reader)

**Author's Note:**

> Imagine...stargazing with Tom Hiddleston

You sprawled out in the grass right next to him. You were a comfortable distance apart. It seemed both too far and not far enough. The two of you had been pushing the boundaries of “just friends” for quite some time, and it was definitely a push when he proposed the idea of moving out into the English countryside with him. It was bad enough that he was in the public eye and that you had to actually put in a lot of effort to keep your friendship or…platonic relationship private. He believed that his personal life was sacred, so he separated himself from the public eye when he needed a moment alone. You knew how overworked he was, and the flat had been lonely while he was gone. He would fly you out to wherever he was shooting once in a while, but it never felt right. The only time everything fell back into place was when he walked through the front door with his suitcase and a long sigh. You always knew that a warm embrace would follow suit as well as a hot cup of tea, which he knew how to make best.

It was his first day back home, and you knew that he was already becoming anxious about what was coming next. He was always the man who lived in the moment, but for the entire year you had lived together, it felt like he was constantly on the go with one movie right after another or one photoshoot right after another or one interview. He was constantly busy, and this was the first time he had been able to take a true breath in at least 2 months. He called you every single night, sounding more and more drained each time, which started to worry you. After begging him to just come home for a bit, he decided to cancel all upcoming interviews, photoshoots, and promotions indefinitely. He was a wreck when he finally got home. His hands shook, he had dark circles under his eyes, and his hair was tousled. As you laid in the grass, you could feel that anxiety bubbling up within him again, and you reached your hand out to find his. Without having to search for it long, his skin brushed against yours and he immediately intertwined those long and slender fingers with yours. A sincere feeling of disbelief spread through your whole body as you _never_  expected him to initiate that simple gesture. You wouldn’t question it, though, not when it was the one thing you had dreamed of since the moment you met.

You couldn’t bring yourself to even look at him, but you could feel those blue eyes studying every edge of your face and the way your hair cascaded across the grass. He looked at you as if you were a goddess, and he treated you like a princess. Everything the tabloids said about him being a gentleman was pure and utter truth. All the blood in your body rushed to your cheeks at the thought of his eyes on you. In a frantic attempt to keep him from noticing, you pointed up at the stars with your free hand, “there you are” you noted, pointing out the constellation that you looked for every night. Aquarius. It was his zodiac sign.

His eyes disconnected with the soft arch of your cheekbones and gazed up into the night sky, giving you the opportunity to steal a quick glance at him. The man was a sight for sore eyes, and he had a heart of gold to match. His lips were in a tight line until he noticed what you were talking about at which point his eyes lit up like the sun. The laugh that followed was nothing short of contagious, and you joined in with him, never once letting go of his hand, “this is already turning out to be the best vacation I’ve ever had” he breathed out.

You pulled yourself closer to him, “you’re spreading yourself too thin out there, Tom. Sometimes you just need to reel it back in and remember that you have a life outside of acting. You have a home, you have a family, and you have me. I know that you don’t want to disappoint your fans, but…they’ll understand. There are so many people who love you, and when you love someone, you support them” you explained as that fearlessness surfaced within you. The thought was fleeting, but it had still come up again.

A piece of you was worried that he had caught on, but when that beautiful English accent cascaded from his lips like velvet, all concerns disappeared, “you know, every night that I’m away, I look up at the stars. It doesn’t matter if we’re filming all through the night and into the morning, I’ll find a way to take a break and go outside. I’ve laid in the parking lot of the studio sometimes, and I’ll just stare up at the stars because it’s the closest thing I have to home” he said

You furrowed your eyebrows, “how is looking at the stars the closest thing you have to home?”

His smile fell and a tranquil, yet serious, expression fell over his face. His stunning blue eyes lit up your world when they met yours. Still there was the hint of a smile within his eyes even though his lips showed no signs of his boyishness, “every night when I’m with you, this is what we do. We watch the stars together, and you’re my home, (Y/N). _You_ are my home”


	2. Just Relax (Tony Stark/Reader)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Imagine...Tony Stark helping you relax after a hard day.

You dropped down on the sofa next to Tony, your whole body aching from a long day. He sat on one end of the couch, his feet propped up underneath him as he stared at the projected hologram in front of him. He swiped it down and turned it off as soon as you situated yourself on the sofa. It had been quite some time since you had any real time with him, and he wasn’t going to miss out. As one of Fury’s right hands, you took his place when he decided to just disappear into thin air after “dying” in D.C.. He had trained you for this responsibility, but it was still hard to accept it when the weight of the world would be resting on your shoulders. You weren’t the director since S.H.I.E.L.D. didn’t _technically_ exist anymore, but you were definitely coordinating a lot of what the team did, and you rallied the team when it was needed. You held plenty of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s secrets, which made you valuable, but it also made you a target for the enemies of the “non-existent” organization. Your days were being eaten up, which left you utterly exhausted come the evening.

Tony had been requesting some time alone with you all week long, but he always found you passed out on the couch, at your desk, or in his bed. He refrained from waking you up, knowing that the guilt would eat away at him if he gave into those desires. He saw just how thin you had spread yourself, and he continued to offer his assistance in any way possible. From intercepting some of the lower level agents on their way to you or having Jarvis perform more menial tasks like sorting the computer files and doing research into what could be a potential threat, Tony was doing his best to lighten the load that fell to you. There had been times when you thought your relationship with the “genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist” would venture past the boundaries of just friends. However, just when you were ready to make your move, Fury sprung this new responsibility onto you, and you really had no choice but to accept. Trying to balance a relationship with the work that you had to put into rebuilding S.H.I.E.L.D. or just keeping the world safe just wouldn’t work. Even so, Tony was on your mind far more than any other friend was.

You glanced up at him, locking your eyes with his deep brown ones. You knew he wanted to ask what happened or how your day was, but you answered him before he could even ask, “I don’t want to talk about it” you groaned, trying to smile before you broke down in tears. It had all been so overwhelming, but you maintained a state of absolute grace. Before you could even think to speak again, you let out a long and audible yawn, which ended in a laugh. You were _finally_ able to sit down with him after a full week of nothing but working and passing out before starting it all again the next day. You were _finally_ able to see him and really give him your attention after a full week of nothing but a constant bombardment of other people’s questions and concerns. Too many people just wanted to give up. Too many agents wanted to throw in the towel instead of risking working under the radar. If you had been discovered operating without the knowledge of the government, there could be problems. The Avengers were free to continue saving people, but S.H.I.E.L.D. couldn’t have any part in that as far as anyone on the outside was concerned. It was just your luck that the first moment you had to spend with him, you were immediately exhausted. Without a single word, he reached out and grabbed your hand. with his own. His hands were calloused because of the sheer amount of work he had done through his whole life. He was a man who loved working with his hands, and he was good at it.

When he stood up, you followed suit. When he led the way to his bedroom, you followed suit. When he suggested you remove your shirt, you weren’t worried because it was nothing he hadn’t seen before. There had been countless times when he walked into your room without knocking only to see you getting dressed or undressing. Like a perfect gentleman, he looked away _immediately_. When he motioned for you to lay on the bed, you didn’t question it. Hell, you wanted that bed more than anything all day long. As you rested your head on your arms, your eyes slipped closed, and you could almost hear the smile spreading across his face, “I know that a lot’s been on your plate lately, and I just want to help you relax” he murmured as he unclasped your bra to give himself the freedom he needed. His hands roamed around your back before gently kneading the muscles that had tensed up throughout the week. Every now and then, you would let out a soft moan of pleasure as your body finally felt like your own again. His skillful fingers danced across your back in an attempt to soothe the fire that burned beneath your skin. You would’ve attacked him right then and there if the massage wasn’t so relaxing. Once he had worked his magic, he draped the bed sheet over you to cover your bare torso, “there’s a hot bath waiting for you in the bathroom with a bottle of wine, an aromatherapy blend of lavender and bergamot, some unscented candles to set the mood, and your current favorite book. I’ll be somewhere out there if you need me, and Jarvis is…everywhere” he said with that signature smile before he began walking toward the door.

“Tony,” you called out to him, sitting up in the bed. This was the moment. After all the bullshit you had put up with for an entire week, two simple acts drove you to this conclusion. You had to push your relationship into the unknown. You wanted to. He turned around to face you at the sound of his own name, a look of hope in his glistening brown eyes. You smiled as you stood up from the bed, taking the sheet with you to maintain some modesty that you hoped would be lost in a few minutes, “I think the bath is big enough for two”

He was a man who loved working with his hands, and he was good at it. However, you never really knew just how good until that night.


	3. Something More (Tony Stark/Reader)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Imagine...Confessing to Tony Stark that you love him.

You sat on the couch next to that pompous asshole as he flipped through the channels on the TV. That smug, self-assured, son of a dick-because you would never disrespect his mother-was the man you cared about more than anyone else in the world. He was the one who taught you everything you know, the man who helped mold you into the person you were today. You were the only one who saw every piece of him, too. Even when he was with Pepper, she didn’t see everything. If they had an argument, who did he come crying to? You. If he had a panic attack, who was the first one he would call? You. If he needed a plus one to one of his charity events or parties, who did he invite? You. If he needed a second opinion on one of his Iron Man suits, who was the first person he asked? You. You were there for everything. You saw the good, the bad, and the ugly. You saw the confidence  _ and  _ the insecurity within him. You saw the rougher side of his personality that he wore in front of friends, acquaintances, and complete strangers, but you also saw the tenderness and compassion that he buried to make himself seem more masculine.

His father did that to him.

You also saw what that broken relationship with Pepper did to him. When the panic attacks became too much for her to handle, she would call you. When she was too busy to deal with his insecurities, she would call you. Maybe it was because you and Tony had known each other for so long that you just knew how to handle the tough stuff, or maybe it was because she just didn’t care enough to try. Either way, Tony saw it as him being a burden on her. So, when she left him, he wasn’t surprised. You were. How could she leave a man like that? How could she leave a man who had a heart that big? Maybe, you would never know the answer because the only men you ever left were the ones who treated you like dirt, the ones who didn’t stick around for the good, the bad, and the ugly, the ones who hadn’t be taught not to hit girls. You had your fair share of awful dating experiences, and just as you were there for Tony, he was there for you. He had a protective side, and it showed itself when he saw the tears in your eyes and the new bruise on your cheek that one night. It took everything you had to keep him from leaving to kill your freshly-dumped boyfriend. When you asked, he stayed. He held you as you cried and offered you a strong foundation to build your new life on, and you didn’t know when or how or why, but you fell in love with him all the same. It had always been this small flame in the back of your heart, but it came alive when he became your guiding light.

“Is there anything on you wanna watch?” he asked, draping his arm over the back of the couch as he kicked his feet up onto the coffee table. Coulson would’ve cut his feet off if he had been there to see it, but he was still trying to fly under the radar with his team of misfits. You couldn’t deny that it was for the best, but you had your fleeting thoughts about him every day. He had been your mentor since day one, and you considered him a friend. Only a handful of people knew he was alive, and Tony wasn’t one of them. 

You tucked your legs up under your body and nestled into the warmth of the couch. You would’ve much rather nestled up to him, but it had been a difficult day for him, meaning that it was more than likely he would show reluctance toward cuddling, “we could always watch Gordon Ramsay yelling at people”

He shrugged off the suggestion, “I prefer him with the kids. Fury does enough yelling around here for both him  _ and _ Wrinkly Forehead” he remarked, making you laugh at the new nickname he had for the chef. He had nicknames for everyone, whether he knew them or not, and he usually cracked them out when he wanted to make you laugh. Mission accomplished. As he scrolled through the channels, a loud crack came from outside the building, causing his whole body to seize up in fear. When you looked out the window, you could see the brilliant colors lighting up the sky, and you knew that it was just beginning. As you sat motionless on the couch, you wondered how you could’ve possibly forgotten the most patriotic day of the year. The fourth of July was always a holiday that Tony took note of because it was the Captain’s birthday, too, and Tony went all out for birthdays. With Steve in D.C., we hadn’t given it much thought, especially not the fireworks. When you looked over at Tony to see how he was handling it, you saw that he had completely zoned out of the world and was completely lost in his own mind. You could almost see the memories flashing before his widened eyes as he experienced the wormhole over and over and over again. He had seen so much happen that he never signed up for, and all of it came crashing down around him after New York. As he relived them, you did, too. From him finding you bruised and beaten after you had been kidnapped to seeing Coulson’s body in the holding area where they had kept Loki. He had seen far too much. You knew that his condition was bound to get worse but that the only way to help would be to intercept this panic attack before it got too far.

You reached out for his hand, but the moment you touched it, he jerked it away almost like you had been holding a match against his hand, slowly burning his skin. You knew better than to touch him without telling him first in situations like this, but it was your first instinct. You offered him a smile, trying to stay as calm as possible even though you were anxious for what was about to come. The events only cemented the fact that you would be spending the night in his room again, and he would end up attaching himself to you throughout the night, so in the morning, it was impossible to get out of bed without waking him. You held your hand up again as you spoke, “I’m just gonna take your hand, Tony, okay?” you asked, wanting to receive his consent before you did anything. He nodded his head as his eyes flickered around the room, never focusing solely on you. You reached down and stroked his fingers before intertwining your fingers with his. His palms were already clammy, which meant that the night had already just begun. Long hours stretched out ahead of you, but you were prepared for all it would bring because you loved him. You stared up at the ceiling, ready to address one of your greatest friends, “Jarvis, soundproof the tower, please”

“As you wish, Miss (Y/N)” he responded as the cracking and popping of fireworks outside faded away with all the rest of the chaos of the city. You had tried talking him into taking up residence somewhere quieter, but he had convinced himself that if New York was attacked again, he wanted to be right here, not miles away. Still, for his own sanity, you knew that he needed to step back and take some time to process everything that has happened from the time he was labelled as a superhero until now. If he didn’t talk about the heavy things and work through them, these problems would only get worse, and you didn’t want to see him hurt anymore than he already was. Maybe taking a break from the constant chaos of the city would give him time to clear his head and find himself again.

Before it got any worse, you stood up from the couch, still holding onto his hand. He stared up at you with those terrified brown eyes, and you told yourself for the hundredth time that you would take away all his fear and pain if you could. There was no way of getting into his head to stop these things from happening, so the only thing you could do was be with him as he experienced those horrors on his own, “come lay down with me in the bedroom” you suggested, trying to coax him up by urging his hand further toward you. The hard part wasn’t getting him to stand up, but it was making your way to the bedroom with him. His hands trembled, and he kept stopping to catch his breath. You knew what it felt like, but you also knew that getting him comfortable would be the first step in calming him down. It didn’t take long to get him into the bedroom, but it was quite the task to get him to lay in the bed because he kept trying to convince you that he needed to go to the emergency room. Once you were finally in bed together, you noticed that the attack had started to wear off, but the after effects were just as exhausting. The two of you faced each other for hours as you reminded him to breathe, that he  _ wasn’t _ having a heart attack, and that you were going to be there through the entire thing. He was always afraid of being left alone in moments like these, but you laid in that bed facing him for half the night, your faces so close you could feel his warm breath cascading across your lips with every breath he took.

After such a long time just staring at each other, he finally broke his own silence, “I’m sorry” he apologized, casting his eyes away from you and sitting up in the bed, turning just enough to hang his legs off the side. He never turned away from you unless he was about to start crying, and you had only seen that happen a handful of times. You’d seen him naked-accidentally-more times than you had seen him cry. “Sorry” was the last thing you wanted to hear, though. He had done it so many times before, but you never anticipated it. You never made him feel like he was a burden, and when he apologized for  _ you _ taking care of  _ him _ , it made you feel guilty about something you shouldn’t have to feel guilty about.

You scrambled out of the bed and over to his side, not wanting him to pull away. Before he had the chance to stand up and walk away from you, you nestled your knees on either side of him and seated yourself on his lap. For any other duo, it would’ve been crossing a line, but there were no lines with Tony. Besides, you had crossed so many other lines, one more wouldn’t kill you. At least, you hoped it didn’t. When he continued to try to look away, you collected his face in your hands and stroked his cheeks with the tips of your fingers, feeling his body rumble beneath yours. You turned his head toward you just enough so that he had nowhere else to look but into your eyes, “please, don’t push me away. Talk to me. Let me in” you begged

His eyes held so much indifference in that moment, but you knew that it was his way of building up the wall. He shrugged, “what do you want me to say, (Y/N)? Do you want me to tell you that I’m scared of fireworks like some little boy? That I feel like I’m trapped in my own mind when shit like that happens? Do you want all the details about how I  _ feel _ when I’m going through that?  _ Or _ do you want me to talk about everything that I think about-everything I  _ see _ ? Do you want to hear about all the stuff that eats away at my mind and tears me apart every time I think about it? Do you want to know how every time I hear a firework, it brings me right back to…” he couldn’t even finish the question before his eyes started watering, but you knew what he was going to ask as well as your answer to it.

As your eyes locked with his sad brown ones that glistened with tears, you shook your head, “I  _ want _ to know about what happens during these attacks. I want to know what you’re seeing and why you’re seeing it, but I understand that you telling me all those intimate details is just as scary as me telling you all the intimate details about mine. That’s why I don’t ask. However, you should know that I’m always free to listen” you explained, raking a hand through his soft brown hair to push it from his face. You continued, “all I want is for you to stop apologizing for breaking down like this in front of me. This kind of thing doesn’t make you weak, Tony, and I know that’s what you’re afraid of. You’re afraid that it’s not what I want to see. Well, you know what? I’m not in love with Tony Stark, genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist. I’m in love with the man who cries with me when we watch “My Girl”. I’m in love with the man who cooks me breakfast in bed when he knows I’ve had a rough night, the one who keeps the cranberry juice stocked in the fridge even though he hates the stuff. I’m in love with the man who puts his hand in the middle of my back and rubs small circles into it when things get rough because he knows it’s one of the only ways to calm me down. I’m in love with the man who dances with me in the living room to Elvis and sings the songs himself when the record skips. I don’t love the facade you try to put on to please everyone else. I love  _ you _ ” you blurted out, not even thinking about the consequences your sudden outburst would have until after the fact.

When your entire speech finally processed in your mind, your eyes widened in pure terror. Before you could move, though, his hand snaked around the back of your neck and guided your face toward his. As soon as your lips met, your eyes fluttered closed at the same time your stomach flipped and erupted with thousands of butterflies. For years, you waited to kiss him. For years, you were too afraid to tell him just how much you loved him. For years, you had been too afraid of jeopardizing a friendship you had worked so hard to build, but here you were with your lips locked in a fiery kiss with his. It wasn’t the type of kiss that would turn into anything more-no clothes were coming off tonight-but it was a tension-breaking kiss. Even after your lips disconnected, your eyes remained closed as you basked in the moment like it was a breath of fresh air. When you finally opened your eyes, they locked with his again. His lips pulled up into a smile as he pushed a few stray pieces of hair from your face, tucking them behind your ear. He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled your entire body flush against his own, burying his face in your neck. Even as he peppered kisses against your skin, you could still feel the smile on his lips, “I love you, too”


	4. NSFW: These Hands (Tom Hiddleston/Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Imagine...getting fingered in a car by Tom Hiddleston

Your fingers were intertwined with his and rested on the center console. He always looked forward to driving in the States because it was symbolized one of the many subtle differences between his home in England and this country that you called home. When you took the trip to England, he found it amusing to watch you drive, knuckles turning white as you gripped the steering wheel tightly like that would help if you two got in an accident. For the time being, Tom would be in the States. He was taking a break from acting for a short time to focus on his personal life-you. However, you couldn’t take months off of work to focus on  _ your  _ personal life, so he was being the accommodating boyfriend he had been for years.

A part of you hoped that this sudden break to focus on your relationship would lead to a ring. Some time had passed, and the two of you talked about it at length, but he didn’t take the action you were hoping for. However, it was all too much to think about when you were trying to bask in the moment with him here. You took a full week off of work and were heading to Maine to start out the vacation. Your grandma owned a house in York-less than a mile away from the beach. It would be his first time in Maine, which meant he was excited, but when was he  _ not _ excited? Hell, you could announce that you were cooking macaroni and cheese for dinner, and he’d be excited. You wouldn’t ask for him to be any other way, though, because he was perfect to you. Even your parents loved him, and it was hard to impress them.

He squirmed in his seat a bit, glancing over at the clock to see that you still had two hours left before you arrived, “I can’t wait to get there! It seems like it’s taking forever” he stated, leaning back in the seat with that look of fading hope in his eyes. He had the patience of a saint, but when he was this excited, it was hard for him to remember that you already had the bulk of the trip behind you. 

You chewed on your bottom lip, eyeing him up and down like a lioness ready to pounce on her prey. It had been more than a month since the two of you had sex. When you walked through the door of your apartment last night and saw him there, he tried to initiate some passionate lovemaking, but when he saw just how exhausted you were, he elected for a night of sweet cuddling. That knot in your abdomen that had been there since the moment you two parted last only tightened again as you stared at the perfection that was your boyfriend. His strong forearms that peeked out from the rolled up sleeves of his dress shirt, the light patch of chest hair that was just barely visible where he left the top buttons of his dress shirt undone, the bulge in his pants that reminded you how well-endowed he was, and his ungodly long and slender fingers. You clenched your jaw lightly, thinking of the ways to surprise him, “there are a few ways I can think of to help pass the time” you noted, raising an eyebrow.

“My sisters and I used to play “I Spy” whenever we were on long car rides” he said, completely oblivious to the suggestive nature of your tone.

You rolled your eyes because it was so typical of him to misread the subtle hints, especially since you weren’t always so forward with your desire for sexual intimacy. He was the perfect balance of physical and verbal, making his desires known in any way he knew how, but you were much more physical than verbal. You were more often the one to crawl onto his lap and straddle his hips to let him know that you were in the mood. It was just simpler for you, “I was thinking something a little different” you smirked, pulling your hand away from his only to trail it down to his pants. Without giving him time to process what was happening, you grasped the bulge in his pants, watching his face intently for the reaction you knew was coming.

He threw his head back, nearly closing his eyes, but knowing that he had to stay focused on the road to keep from crashing the car. With his mouth gaping open, a shaky breath escaped with the moan of pleasure. His moans were enough to propel you into a mindblowing orgasm, but you wanted to pleasure him first before focusing on yourself. The knuckles of his left hand turned white as he gripped the steering wheel tightly, and you watched as his right hand balled up into a fist. You grasped his hardening member and gave it a generous stroke, watching as his jaw clenched. He emitted another moan, causing that knot in your abdomen to tighten yet again, “it’s dangerous to interfere with the focus of the driver” he trembled, sucking in a deep breath before grabbing your wrist and removing your hand from his groin.

Your face flushed in embarrassment, “I’m sorry, Tom, I just thought-”

He cut you off, glancing over at you with a wild look in his eyes, “take off your panties” he demanded in a stern voice. Tom had a very sweet and gentle demeanor, but there were times when he couldn’t control that burning fire of dominance within him. You followed his orders immediately, lifting up your body just enough to slip off the panties you wore underneath your summer dress. You tossed them into the back, knowing that you’d find yourself face first in the backseat within the hour. Once you were finished, you sat in complete silence, your chest heaving in anticipation for what was about to come, “spread your legs” he ordered in a raspy and low voice, causing your stomach to flip. Without second thought, you hiked up the skirt of your dress, letting it rest delicately against your upper thighs, and you separated your knees, only stopping once you saw that devilish smile spread across his lips.

This was why they chose him for Loki.

Tom was kind and so sweet, buying you flowers on random occasions, calling to say “I love you”, holding your hand and serenading you without cause, calling you beautiful, dancing with you in the middle of the living room. He was the perfect gentleman, and he was so charismatic. God, that man could woo anyone, but you somehow managed to woo him as well. How it happened, you weren’t sure, but you weren’t about to complain. Then, there was a part of him that balanced out the “knight in shining armor” that he was. There was this rough, intense, dirty man that lurked in the shadows. He was the man that sometimes whispered the most erotic words into your ear first thing in the morning. He would bend you over the kitchen counter to release his frustrations after a long day. The “Loki” part of him was rough with you when he knew that’s what you desired. The “Loki” part of him dominated you in the hottest and most erotic way possible, exciting you in ways you didn’t know were even possible. This was the Loki part of him.

He brought the fingers of his right hand up to his mouth, sucking on them as the only natural lubricant just in case you weren’t wet enough already. Spoiler alert: you were  _ very _ wet. As soon as his fingers grazed the most sensitive area of your body, you bucked your hips forward. This only caused him to laugh and continue fondling you, stroking your clit over and over again as you threw your head back and moaned. You fell into perfect rhythm with him, thrusting against his hand every time he rubbed you the right way, “you’re so wet, (Y/N). God, I knew you missed this, but I didn’t know just how much until now” he mused, that grin overcoming his face once more as he teased you.

“Fuck...you…” you heaved between labored breaths.

He shook his head, “no, sweetheart. I’ll be fucking  _ you _ ... _ very soon _ ” he growled before positioning two of his fingers at your entrance and plunging them into your soaking wet pussy. You didn’t even try to stifle the moan, and you lurched forward in unchecked arousal. While it wasn’t the part of him you wanted inside you the most, it was better than nothing. None of your needs had been met for over a month, and that left you so incredibly needy.

As he thrust the two fingers in and out of your hole, you gasped for air, unable to produce any noise. As soon as he curled his fingers, though, hitting that sweet spot, your entire body shook, “damnit, Tom. Again. Do that again. Please...please” you begged, turning to putty in his hands. Enjoying your reaction, he curled his fingers again, thrusting them in just the right way to reach that sweet spot. You gripped the car door with my right hand to support yourself, and you gripped his wrist with your left hand, not wanting him to move from that particular spot. When he realized that he was being restrained from moving, he gave his fingers an experimental flick, and you threw your head back, losing all sense of control, “pull the car over” you demanded

“Why?” he asked in that light hearted tone. Since your eyes were closed, you couldn’t see his face, but you could hear that smirk.

Gathering yourself just enough, you managed to crane your head to stare over at him. However, you still couldn’t speak with his fingers still inside you, so you pushed his hand away, feeling empty without a piece of him buried within you. While he couldn’t return your gaze, he knew that you were in complete control of the situation. While he had a hold on you like none other, so did you when it came to him. You reached over the center console again, still not completely satisfied, and you grabbed his rock hard cock that still hid behind his trousers. Giving it a squeeze, he shivered, and you knew you had him right where you wanted him, “pull the car over so that I can fuck you like I should have last night”


	5. Daddy's Girl (Steve Rogers/Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Imagine...Steve picking you up for your first date and meeting your father, Logan.

Of all the days your father chose to stay home, he chose this day. While you weren’t sure of what Steve had planned for your first real date, but you were sure that he wasn’t planning on meeting your father. Introducing the man you’d been swooning over since before you can even remember to your…”rough around the edges” dad wasn’t a part of your idea of the perfect date. Hell, you weren’t even sure of how to bring up the whole, “my dad is the Wolverine” conversation in the first place, and you certainly didn’t know how to tell your dad that you were going on a date with the famed “pretty boy patriot” (your dad really loved those nicknames). He was always a quiet man, barely a sound emitting from him while he was in the comfort of his own home. After leaving the school and Professor Xavier behind him, he found solace in the simple things in life. He liked drinking, smoking cigars, collecting guns, and cooking. Boy, was he a good cook, too. You were sure that his talent was linked to the time he had on this Earth already, but it didn’t matter much because he could cook circles around you. There were often times when you’d hear him in the kitchen, humming quietly to himself, thinking that no one could hear him. You could.

You always could.

There were times when you’d run home from school, crying because the children made fun of you for being different. You’d hide away in your room, trying to muffle your sobs in the pillows of your bed, thinking- _ hoping _ -that no one could hear you. He did. He always did. Without fail, he’d knock on the door and wait for your beckon of approval for him to enter. With the grace of a dancer, he’d open the door just enough to allow his body to slip inside your room before closing the door behind him. Then, he’d sit on the edge of the bed and rub your back as you continued to bury your face in the pillow, not wanting anyone to see you cry. He did, though. He wouldn’t rub your back for long, though, because he always scooped you up into his arms, cradling your body-no matter how big-as you rested your head on his chest. Home was always in his strong arms, and they always encased your body, protecting you from all the dangers of the outside world. He never had many words to say, only reminding you that you were strong, his little warrior.

He was a quiet man, but on this day, he was too quiet. The house itself was nearly silent aside from his heavy boots padding along the hardwood floor downstairs. Often times, you’d hear him leave through the backdoor, and you’d glance out the window to see him making his way to the barn. He liked to tend the animals in order to ease any tension he was feeling, and he had been going back and forth to the barn all day while you prepared for your date with the handsome young man you met through a mutual friend, Clint. You waited upstairs, still trying to decide on whether or not to leave your hair up or down. However, none of it seemed to matter when you heard the doorbell ring and heavy footsteps on their way to answer it. You knew that he knew what was going on, which was a problem. It would’ve been so much easier on everyone if for  _ once _ he was completely oblivious. You didn’t even tell him, but you were sure that Clint had informed your father of the date, knowing that you wouldn’t. Clint was the older brother you never had, so  _ both  _ men only wanted what was best for you.

You chewed on your bottom lip as you listened to the door swing open, debating on whether or not to intervene before your father could harass the polite young man who never failed to treat you like a lady. There was an almost audible growl coming from downstairs, “who the fuck are you?” the gruff voice of the man who raised you rang out. The harshness in his voice made you wince, and you wanted to run down the stairs to stop him from this regular occurrence. His harshness with any unsuspecting man who was taking you on a date would often chase them away. The boys when you were younger never talked to you again after meeting your dad, afraid of breaking your heart, which would lead to them suffering broken bones.

“My name is Steve” your date introduced himself, and you could practically hear that charming smile spread across his lips, “Steve Rogers” he added, causing the butterflies in your stomach to flutter around. You felt so weightless in a world that held you down for years. You had always been trapped, but Steve had this way about him that freed you. Wanting to see him-and not thinking of the consequences of your actions-you focused your energies and faded into the shadows, becoming completely invisible. Like a ghost, you glided down the stairs into the foyer that opened up into the living room. At the bottom, you saw the young super soldier in a nice suit and tie holding a small bouquet of roses. The choice of a suit wasn’t a way of showing off, but he wanted to look nice for the occasion. No matter what he wore, he would still be that handsome dork you met at the cafe, the one who couldn’t stop himself from smiling whenever your eyes met.

Your father changed his stance, crossing his arms over his chest, “yeah, I could pick out your pretty boy face in a crowded room.  _ Everyone _ knows that face” he growled out one of his main concerns about today. Even though he wouldn’t tell you, you knew that he was nervous that you would be going out into the public with someone so recognizable. The only person who could be higher profile would’ve been Tony Stark. Your dad was just concerned for your safety, but it didn’t stop the clear shock in Steve’s eyes as he laid into the young man with flowers at the door, ”the question I  _ should’ve  _ asked is:  _ why  _ the fuck are you standing on my porch with roses? Are those for me? If not, and they’re for my daughter, I can  _ guarantee  _ that you’ll be picking thorns out of your ass for weeks”

Without flinching, Steve replied with a level of grace that didn’t surprise you one bit, “they actually  _ are  _ for your daughter, sir. I’m here to pick her up for our date, and I wanted to buy her flowers. I know that roses are her favorite flowers, and this shade of purple is her favorite color” he smiled, gesturing to the oddly but beautifully colored flowers.

Your father clenched his jaw for a moment, eyeing the young man up and down, still not impressed. It was also clear that he was stunned by Steve’s ability to let the aggression slide off his back, “well, come in and take a seat” he mumbled, stepping to the side to let the dapper gentleman into the house. As he closed the door and turned to lead Steve into the living room, his stern eyes caught yours. Somehow, he was just able to sense your presence even when you were invisible to everyone else. Even though he saw you and acknowledged your presence with a slight shake of his head, he acted as if he didn’t notice. Instead, he turned his gaze to the top of the stairs and called your name. Steve followed on his heels into the living room and sat with perfect posture on the sofa as your father sat adjacent to him on his usual chair. You had every intention of making your presence known, but that curious piece of you took hold, and you stayed hidden as you watched the two men interact with one another, “where are you planning on taking her?” your dad asked as he cleared his throat

Steve’s blue eyes stopped scanning the room that was decorated with pictures of you in some way, shape, or form. There were school pictures from your earlier years, pictures you had taken with your friends, or pictures of you with the most important man in your life-your dad. Each hung on the wall as a memory he kept with him because the only thing in the world that mattered to him was your happiness. In every photo on the wall, it was another moment you were happy, and it stood as a reminder for why he woke up every morning. It was apparent to Steve even if your dad didn’t want to believe it. As the question was asked, Steve’s eyes connected with the judgement filled eyes of your dad, “with all due respect, sir, I was hoping to keep it a surprise for her. I have quite the evening planned out, and it would be a shame for the surprise to be spoiled”

“Are you a virgin?”

Your father’s question left  _ you _ taken aback, but you had no idea how Steve must’ve felt. You watched in horror as your dates cheeks turned a deep shade of red, “I’m sorry, sir?” he murmured, unsure of how to react in that situation. You were sure it wasn’t a question he was faced with often, but here he was, staring down the barrel of a metaphorical gun with your father on the other side. Great.

“You heard me, supersoldier! Are you a virgin? Have you had sex?” your dad asked, becoming impatient. Beating around the bush when it came to a simple “yes” or “no” question was one of his pet peeves. Even though you knew he wasn’t truly impatient with Steve’s shy nature, he was having one hell of a time watching the young man squirm.

“I haven’t been...in a relationship”

“That wasn’t my question” your dad stated, “I haven’t been in many relationships, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t indulged.  _ Are you a virgin _ ?” he asked again, stressing every word of the question.

Steve cleared his throat, “yes, sir” he answered, his eyes flickering away in embarrassment.

“Good. Now, you better keep it that way” your dad growled, “I expect her home by ten o’clock at the latest. Having her home earlier than that will earn you some brownie points. If she’s not home at exactly ten o’clock or earlier, I’ll be in that truck in the driveway, and I’ll be on my way to you. Trust me, you don’t want that. These claws aren’t for show, young man” he said, allowing the razor sharp adamantium claws to extend from between the knuckles on his right hand. Steve was visibly shaken, but you weren’t sure what pushed him over the edge. Was it your father’s grilling? Was it the claws? Were the threats too much? You weren’t sure what it was, but the intimidation was working the way your dad planned, “I expect you to walk her to the door, but if I see that you try to kiss her-and I will see  _ everything _ -I’ll fucking kill you. That’s my baby girl, my  _ only  _ concern in this world. I love her more than anything or anyone else. If you so much as  _ look  _ at her the wrong way, I’ll rain down an unholy hell fire on you”

“You have my word that I’ll treat your daughter with nothing but respect, sir” Steve replied with unparalleled grace, not letting the threats slow down his charm. Then, there was silence. One would be able to hear a pin drop upstairs. Steve stared once again at the pictures on the wall and sitting on top of the fireplace. He smiled, trying to lighten the mood in the living room, “so, what was (Y/N) like when she was younger?” he asked, desperately trying to strike up a conversation.

“I  _ don’t  _ like you” your dad growled.

Steve sighed, “yeah, I was starting to pick up on that”

With yet another tense moment of silence falling between them, you decided it was better for both of them if you made your entrance as soon as possible. You understood that your dad needed to have that “dad talk” with your date, and you also understood Steve’s old school nature when it came to meeting with his date’s father  _ before _ the first date. Still, leaving them alone for too long would only mean trouble. You tortured Steve enough for one day, and you knew that you owed him a kiss after him putting up with your dad. Even though your father promised to be watching, you would have your private moments with your supersoldier. Without a sound, you rushed up the stairs, stepping out from the shadows. You checked your hair, outfit, and makeup one last time before hurrying back down the stairs, “hi, sorry I took so long. I was just finishing my hair” you apologized, standing in the entryway of the living room.

Steve stood up as soon as you announced your presence, and your dad followed suit. Steve was the first one to speak, though, after recovering from his speechlessness, “there’s no need to apologize; it gave me the chance to meet your father. You look so...beautiful” he smiled, walking over to you with the bouquet of roses still in his large hands. He held them out to you, and you accepted them graciously.

Your cheeks became warm, and you bit your bottom lip in a desperate attempt to try to force back the smile and blush, “thank you for the compliment and the roses. They’re lovely, and you look rather handsome yourself” you blushed even harder as you complimented him. His cheeks also took on a deep red color to prepare for when he averted his eyes with that signature bashful nature. You smirked as you turned your attention over to your dad. He looked rather amused by Steve’s bashfulness as well.

You were antsy to leave, wanting to start the date that you were sure would kick off something very special. Steve was a gentleman-traditional and respectful. You had no doubt that this would blossom into something beautiful. Anxious to start along this journey, you placed the flowers on the coffee table and embraced your dad as Steve walked out into the foyer. Your dad held onto you tightly, realizing the journey you were about to embark on but not wanting you to leave. He would support you, but you had no doubt that it would tear him apart to watch his baby grow up, “he seems like a good kid. Be safe and make good choices. If he hurts you, rip his heart out, baby girl” he whispered, his voice muffled by your hair. He pressed a firm kiss to the top of your head before letting you go.

“I wouldn’t be your daughter if I didn’t” you smiled

He walked you to the front door where your date was waiting patiently for you. Though he wouldn’t tell you, your father tensed up because he just  _ knew _ that in less than 2 years, he’d be walking you to Steve again, your arm looped gingerly through his, and he would cry. Steve looked at you the same way he would on that day, like you were the only woman in the world. As your father passed you off to Steve for the first-but not the last-time, Steve smiled, “thank you for your hospitality, Mr. Howlett”

“Thanks for showing your face, kid” your dad replied, truly grateful for Steve’s willingness to step into the lion's den. He shot one more look at you, “I’ll be right here when you come home”

And even though he didn’t say it, you knew what he was saying in the silence.

I love you.


	6. Galway Girl (Peter Parker & Lesbian!Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Imagine...being Tony Stark's daughter and coming out to your best friend, Peter Parker.

People would suspect that being the daughter of the biggest womanizer in the history of the universe would mean that you could charm any boy you wanted, but that had been the one thing you  _ didn’t _ want. You sat across from a fidgety Peter, and he fidgeted his long fingers in anticipation for what it was you needed to tell him. Your father, Tony, was suspicious when you told him that you were going out to meet Peter, his new...“experiment”-his words-that he took a liking to. It was scarce that Tony looked truly happy after your mother died, but he always beamed with pride when he was close to you or Peter.

However, under the circumstances, you were certain he would no longer feel love for you, not once he  _ knew _ . That was why you sat in front of Peter. Ever since your trip to Ireland with Tony, the one you begged for Peter to be made a part of, you couldn’t help the burning within your heart. On your second night there, you snuck out of your hotel room with Peter and ran off to a local pub. While you couldn’t purchase alcohol, it felt good to be out of the watchful eye of your father, a man who always worried about you too much. It was at that pub that you met  _ her _ .

Peter was the first to lay eyes on her, but he didn’t focus on her the way you did. You watched every swing of her hips, every curve of her body, the way her blonde wisps of hair bounced as she danced, and the way her smile made every color more vibrant than before. When Peter had gone off to the bathroom, you took your separation as your chance to approach her. While you had always found yourself attracted to women, you could always brush aside those urges and ignore them. It was completely different with her, though. With your first sense freedom, you approached her, and that was when the world stopped turning, that was when your life finally made sense but when it all came crashing down around you at the same time.

The taste of her lips didn’t leave you, not that night, not during the plane ride home, and not even as you sat in front of Peter. You were terrified of telling anyone, but he was going to be the first. Right as you were about to speak, he cleared his throat, “did you tell your dad that we were on a date?” he asked, his fingers trembling as he wrung his hands nervously.

You snickered, “no, why?” you asked, curious as to why he would ask a question that was so out of the blue.

He shrugged his shoulders, those brown eyes flickering up to meet yours, “well, I think he’s under that impression. He sent me a pretty passive aggressive text a few minutes before you got here,” he confessed.

You rolled your eyes, “I just didn’t tell him what our plans were, so he’s assuming we’re on a date. I actually have something I need to tell you,” you said, taking a deep breath and staring down at the table that separated the two of you. Peter was your closest friend, and while you trusted the other Avengers, there was no friend you trusted or valued more than him. As your body trembled with unchecked anxiety and paranoia, you chewed on your bottom lip, trying to breathe through the constant doubts. You had to remind yourself that if anyone left you for this, Peter would be the last person to do that. He accepted you for all your strange quirks from the beginning. This would just be another  _ thing _ that he would learn to accept. The more times you told yourself that Peter  _ wouldn’t  _ leave you, the less you believed it.

As you tried to calm your own nerves, Peter reached out for your hand just as he always did. You accepted his touch and listened to his soft and soothing voice as he spoke, “whatever it is, just know that it’s not going to change my opinion of you. You’re still going to be the closest thing I have to family. You’re still going to be my best friend. I’m still going to love you, (Y/N),” he explained, seeing how troubled you were.

You took a deep breath and stared down at the table, a lock of (Y/H/C) falling from behind your ear to hide the tears in your eyes. Your bottom lip quivered as you looked back up at him, meeting those understanding brown eyes once more, “I’m gay,” you breathed out.

Without hesitation, Peter jumped across the table and wrapped you in his arms. As he tackled you out of the seat, he broke the fall once you both hit the ground. He refused to let you go, even after your tears began to dry. He held you through the tears, the sobs, and the sniffles. When it was over, he continued to hold you close, “can I tell you something?” he asked, and you nodded your head, “I saw you with that girl in Ireland, and I heard you sneak out that night after you brought me back to the hotel,” he confessed.

You playfully hit his chest and smiled with fond memories of her, “Aisling,” you murmured that name. It meant “dream,” which was what she felt like to you. You glanced up at Peter, pulling away from him only the slightest bit-as far as he would let you-and you finally realized that the look in his eyes hadn’t changed. If anything, he looked at you with so even more admiration than before you told him. You chewed on your bottom lip, “you’re the first person I’ve told,” you confessed.

He furrowed his eyebrows, “you haven’t told your dad?” he asked, confused as to why you would tell him before the man you confided in more than anyone else. You couldn’t keep things from Tony, the man who raised you and made you into a strong and intelligent young woman.

You shook your head, “I’m just afraid of what he would say. I mean, what if he disowns me?” you asked, terrified of the idea. It had been something you struggled with for such a long time. Even since you were younger, you knew that there was something different about living the lifestyle that felt comfortable for you. You saw how people discriminated against people who didn’t follow the status quo, and you didn’t know your father’s stance on that issue. It was never something that came up naturally.

Peter glanced up at the clouds and thought about your question, which was rhetorical, but he was going to find an answer anyway, “if he disowns you, I’ll accept you even more. I’ll tell people we’re siblings, which could pass,” he answered

“What if he throws me out?” you asked, still ranting.

Even though Peter knew what you were doing, he still found an answer, “if he kicks you out, you’ll live with Aunt May and I. We’ll make it work. I always wanted to share a bunk bed with someone,” he smiled.

Your eyes filled with tears as the last fear surfaced, “what if he doesn’t love me anymore?” you asked, terrified of losing another parent. Your mother didn’t go willingly, but you were so afraid to lose your father, especially over something like this.

“If he stops loving you over something like this, I’ll love you even more,” he answered again, sighing as his brown eyes connected with yours, “(Y/N), listen, I may have had less time getting to know Mr. Stark, but if there’s  _ one _ thing I know, it’s that he loves you more than anything else. If you think that this part of you would make him stop loving you, I think you’re wrong. If I can accept and love you for who you are, the man who helped create you should react the same way. You shouldn’t feel the need to hide, not when this is something that is so central to who you are as a person. Your sexuality doesn’t define you. Love is love, (Y/N), it doesn’t matter who is at the receiving end of it. There’s nothing wrong with that, and anyone who disowns you for that doesn’t deserve you in the first place,” he said, his calm and collected thought process easing your mind.

You glanced up at him, squeezing his waist and grasping his body even tighter, “I don’t know what I would do without you, Peter,” you murmured, resting your head against his chest as he stared up at the clouds.

Five weeks later, Tony’s House, a shelter for troubled and homeless LGBTQ+ teens, was being fast tracked by your loving and supportive father, a man who cried when you told him how afraid you were about coming out to him. He had uttered the same words Peter did: Love is love.


End file.
